The March-faeries are awake,
Brushing snow from the crocus-tops
and pulling pink buds from the branch tips.
They lift their small faces to the Spring sun,
Their laugh like the tinkle of chimes on the wind.-Mary (VelvetSky at POL)
Fairies of the Meadow, Nils Blommer,
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Thanks, Mary! I love your poem. I hear my own wind chimes by the window. Perhaps the fairies are afoot!
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